Sanguine
by Cymoril Avalon
Summary: Leon is infested with fangirls. It's up to Claire to rescue him. Parody. Leon X Claire.


Author's Note: I don't own Resident Evil. This is a parody. If you take offense, well...

* * *

Claire winced as she paused in front of Leon's door, the music cutting through as if the wood were paper.

_Everything I touch I break…_

What the hell?

The lyrics repeated themselves several times and Claire's eyes almost glazed over. Then she shook her head violently and knocked.

And waited.

_I scratch and tear until it bleeds…_

Claire pounded harder. "Leon!"

The volume decreased, and Leon opened the door, looking like he hadn't slept in about a week. His eyes were knocked under, his skin was gaunt, and…

Was that eyeliner?

"Hey, Claire."

"What is that noise?"

"Stabbing Westward." He pressed a small controller in his hand and the song changed.

_There are times when I'm just a shell…_

_When I do not feel anything for anyone…_

He stared at her meaningfully.

"Who?"

"Stabbing Westward." He looked mildly hurt.

"Whatever. Can I come in?"

"Of course."

_All I feel is hollow and bruised, used up and misused…_

_Forced to be someone I don't want to be…_

"Turn that shit off, Leon."

"I like it."

"Since when?"

He closed the door behind her and leaned against it, brooding. He didn't do it especially well despite the swoop of his bangs shadowing part of his face. It didn't look like he'd washed it recently.

"Since I finally decided to be myself."

"I should have brought backup," she murmured, then raised her voice. "Look, Leon, stop being retarded. Everyone's getting worried about you. You haven't left your apartment in…"

"My soul is dead."

Well, that had been unexpected. "What?" she asked intelligently.

He pressed the remote again.

_First red on white, then red on red…_

_I left my soul back in my bed…_

"No, that's not the right one." He frantically jiggled the remote, then sighed and let it fall to the ground. Like his cold, shattered heart.

Claire was losing her patience. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"There's no point in living," he informed her blankly.

"Then kill yourself."

Leon looked surprised. "I think about it daily," he admitted after a moment, extending his hand as if he could see the blood running down his wrist. "Facing death would be better than facing more zombies."

"Oh give me a break. Wait, is that…whiskey?"

Leon glanced down. "Yes."

"You're drinking whiskey."

"Yes."

"Straight out of the bottle."

"Yes."

"Leon, there is a potential outbreak going on. We _need_ you. What the hell are you thinking?"

Clearly, he wasn't. "It's the only way to dull the pain." He glanced idly out the window, watching the rain fall as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

Exasperated, she shouted, "What pain?"

He stepped on the remote.

_I feel it slipping away…_

_I gave it all, but no one cared…_

_I feel it slipping away…_

"It's beautiful out."

"Leon, it's pouring."

He looked supremely offended.

"That's it." Claire stalked over to Leon and smacked him soundly on the back of the head. Something small and obnoxious popped out of his ear and fell to the ground with a barely audible thunk. Leon cried out as if in pain, clutching the side of his head.

"What's going on?" he asked, dazed. The bottle of whiskey fell to the floor, spilling liquid everywhere.

Claire stared at the tiny creature picking itself up from the floor, dusting off its skirt indignantly. Then it raised its fist and shook it.

"It was all going according to plan!" it shrieked, jumping up and down. "You ruined it!"

"I hate parasites," Claire said as she punted the thing straight through the window. The sound of breaking glass didn't bother her in the least; Leon had a strange tendency to bust into a building that way, a remnant of whatever horrible trauma he'd experienced when rescuing the President's daughter.

"What happened, Claire?"

"You turned emo. That thing was probably to blame." A pause. "…you're wearing eyeliner."

Leon fisted his hands in his hair, spending several moments simply staring at the ground before he calmly leaned down and pressed the 'power' button on the remote. A blissful silence fell.

"…I need a shower," he mumbled as he staggered past her, feeling unbelievably dirty.


End file.
